


Amalgamate

by Anonymous033



Series: Port [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-29 14:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3899737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous033/pseuds/Anonymous033
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re all gung-ho about making this work, Felicity, but I don’t think you know what it means to be with someone like me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

It’s a quiet night; the city has been surprisingly devoid of crime, and the team has spent the entire time practising their skills. Felicity is happy to see Sara smile once again. She doesn’t do it often—but then she never has for as long as Felicity’s known her—but it’s an improvement from the past two months when Sara, though showing no obvious signs of unhappiness, had kept quiet and to herself.

“Home?” Felicity asks her sometime in the wee hours of the morning.

The woman glances at Felicity, seeming startled by her suggestion, and replies, “I sleep in the Foundry.”

“I know,” Felicity tells her. “I’m asking you if you wanna go home. To my place, I mean.”

Sara casts a look at Oliver, as if asking him for his permission. The man shrugs and wipes his face with a towel. They carry out the entire conversation without speaking, whilst Felicity drums her fingers impatiently on the table; though she does the exact same thing with Oliver when it comes to work, she resents the fact that they’re talking about her like she’s not in the room.

“Yeah, I guess,” Sara says then, putting away her wooden practice staff. Felicity is _not_ pleased to hear that the other blonde does not at all sound enthused.

She had thought Sara wanted this. She has been trying, for the past two weeks, to include Sara in the activities she usually does with Oliver. Yet, if Sara is looking forward to a night with her _that_ much, then maybe she has misinterpreted what Sara needs; maybe the woman is looking solely for a friendship rather than for anything more intimate.

“I’m not his property,” Felicity blurts once Sara has climbed into the passenger seat of her car and closed the door.

It’s just the two of them in the car, but Sara freezes all the same, looking guilty. “What?”

“Oliver,” Felicity says irritably. “I’m not his property. You don’t have to _ask him_ each time you come home with me.  I mean—”

“I didn’t ask him because I thought you were his _property,_ ” Sara gasps before Felicity can dig a deeper hole for herself. “I would never think of your relationship like that. I just—I would have asked you, too, if I’d been going with him.”

Felicity sighs to herself.

It’s been thirteen days, but Sara clearly still struggles to navigate whatever the three of them have; she lets Oliver hug her and accepts the kisses Felicity often presses to her cheek, but has never initiated any signs of affection towards either of them. Tonight has shown, too, that she is reluctant to accept the gestures that go beyond what could simply be construed as platonic.

It makes Felicity think that Sara is second-guessing her decision.

“You don’t have to ask either of us if you’re gonna do something with the other,” Felicity says, pulling out of her parking spot by the curb and onto the street. She loves driving after midnight; the roads are gloriously empty, and it makes her feel as if they belong to her. “If it’s not an equal partnership, then it’s not a partnership at all.”

There is a beat, and then two, and then Sara says to her, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Yeah, well, neither have I.”

“No,” Sara corrects. “I mean relationships. I’ve never done … committed relationships before.”

Felicity does a double-take, so startled she almost forgets to keep her eyes straight ahead. (She may love driving past midnight, but that doesn’t make her any less of a conscientious road user.) “But Nyssa…”

“Nyssa is the daughter of the Head of Assassins,” Sara says, sounding vaguely amused. “We didn’t do much cuddling. Or sleepovers of the non-sexual kind. Or coffee dates—or any kind of public date, for that matter. We had dinner—just the two of us—a few times, from the safety of wherever we were hiding out. When we were done, she would make me fight her so that her lover’s skills would be at least somewhat up to par.”

“ _Muy_ romantic,” Felicity mutters.

“You’re all gung-ho about making this work, Felicity, but I don’t think you know what it means to be with someone like me.”

There is the _slightest_ falter at the end of Sara’s statement, but Felicity knows that they won’t be addressing it. She peeks at Sara out of the corners of her eyes: The other woman has her head held high and is seemingly unaffected by their topic of conversation, but in her lap, the fingers of one hand have curled around the shirt sleeve of the other.

Like Oliver, Sara feels most secure when she is holding a weapon.

Like Oliver, Sara has a nervous tell, even if it is one that is much less consistent or pronounced.

Like Oliver—

“Oliver tells me that all the time,” Felicity remarks casually, “even before you joined us. I tell him that he’s in now, and he can’t leave until he’s sick of me.”

And because Sara turns her head, Felicity knows she’s surprised the other woman. “You’re allowed to grow,” Felicity presses on as she makes a right turn at an intersection. “You’re allowed to not have had a committed relationship with coffee dates and domestic bliss before, and still want to try. You’re allowed to want new experiences. But, Sara, I’m allowed to grow too, and I can’t know what it’s like to date you unless you let me. So, let me—please.”

Sara doesn’t answer, but she does uncurl her fingers from her sleeve and flatten them against her thighs.

And even though they still haven’t dealt with the fact that Sara keeps looking to either her or Oliver before making a move, Felicity considers it a success.

\-------------------------

She lets Sara, who had been working out the whole night, take the first shower. Sara hesitates, but when Felicity unceremoniously throws a towel into her face, she lets out a bark of astonished laughter and relents. As she goes into the bathroom, Felicity digs out a men’s shirt (bought for herself by herself, _thank you very much_ ) and a pair of cotton sweatpants from her drawers and lays them on the bed.

Sara pads barefoot down the hallway a few minutes later, looking somewhat self-conscious in Felicity’s clothes as she rounds the kitchen counters to where Felicity stands at the stove making tea.

“That was extremely fast,” Felicity comments. “Please tell me you shampooed. Not that you stink—you smell good, in fact—but I have _never_ in my life taken a shower that quick.”

Sara hums. “I did shampoo, but I didn’t wanna use up too much of your hot water.”

_But it’s so weird,_ Felicity thinks.

When she’s in her Canary outfit, Sara’s almost larger than life; she stands with her back straight and her eyes feral and her presence domineering. Even back when they were just friends, Sara had always projected a quiet sort of confidence that had practically sent Felicity into fits of envy. The Sara she is familiar with was sure in words and action, neither babbling nor fumbling around awkwardly like Felicity often does. Sara is fierce and smart and capable, and that’s why Felicity has always looked to her in awe.

Ever since the Day of Many Surprises, however, Felicity’s noticed that Sara’s turned almost into a shrinking violet. Professionally, she is still as kickass as ever, but she has become even _more_ hesitant than before to engage in conversations that aren’t strictly work-related. Felicity cannot figure it out.

She knows that Sara’s confidence has at times been superficial (because even heroes have cracks in their hearts), but it makes her uncomfortable to see Sara trying so hard to blend inconspicuously into the background—because this is a Sara who doesn’t believe she is important; this is a Sara who believes her needs matter less than everyone else’s.

And it’s the complete opposite of how Felicity wants Sara to feel.

With a sigh, she takes the whistling kettle off the stove and pours boiling water into the mug sitting on the counter.

“Make yourself at home,” she says, pushing the mug of tea towards Sara. “I’m gonna take a shower, and when I come back, we’re gonna need to talk.”

\-------------------------

When Felicity returns to the living room, Sara’s seated on one end of the couch, knees drawn to her chest and elbows tucked in. Her two hands cradle the mug of tea.

Felicity sighs again and goes to sit down. Sara eyes her over the rim of the mug, curious but silent. Felicity opens her arms.

“C’mon,” she encourages.

Sara’s brows shoot into her hairline.

Felicity fights the urge to just drop her arms and for _get_ about it. “What, do I not look like a hugger to you or something?”

It takes a moment, but Sara eventually scoots closer, twisting her body so that it leans against Felicity’s side and Felicity can curl her arm around the other woman. It’s close, but not overly intimate, and Felicity decides that it’s enough for now.

“Is it weird?” Sara asks.

“What? Hugging?”

She shakes her head. “Me, being attracted to you. I know you said you didn’t mind, but … does it make you feel like you’ll have to do things you don’t want to?”

Felicity considers responding indignantly, because _hello, they’re hugging,_ and _she wouldn’t have wanted this relationship if she’d thought it would be weird, would she,_ but decides that it would only put Sara on the defensive. “No,” she answers. “I’ve never been with a woman before, but it’s not really something I’m opposed to trying. And, I mean … sex is just sex; it’s all about the sensations, and it doesn’t matter whose hand or mouth or whatever is causin’ them. Right?”

Sara shrugs unhelpfully.

“Not that I’m saying we should have sex _now,_ ” Felicity continues. “But if or when we do try, I don’t think it’d be weird—unless you’re really bad at what you do. Which I doubt, because Nyssa looks like she’d be hard to please…”

She squeezes her eyes shut in the face of Sara’s laughter.

“Nyssa wasn’t always easy to please, I guess,” Sara muses. “But then again, she really liked me, and that helped.”

“I really like you, too,” Felicity offers, opening her eyes again. “Not so much in the _rrr-I-wanna-rip-your-clothes-off-now_ way—”

“Unlike you with Ollie?” Sara teases with a smirk.

“Oliver doesn’t wear clothes,” Felicity says before she can stop herself. _Aaaaand there they go._ (She can’t see her own face, but she’s pretty sure she’s turning red.) “That’s not what I meant to say,” she squeaks feebly.

Sara gives a snort. “Well, I don’t blame you. He _is_ fantasy fodder.”

But there’s a hollow tone to her voice that makes Felicity pause. “You know you are too, right?” Felicity asks.

Sara silently tightens her fingers around the handle of the ceramic mug.

“I can’t make myself magically start thinking about you the way I do Oliver,” Felicity tells her. “But sometimes it takes a while for a spark to generate. And there is _nothing_ about you that is _remotely_ unattractive to me. I mean, those abs are a work of art. And is your hair really as soft as it looks?”

Sara chuckles softly. “You’re welcome to touch the hair, if you want.”

“Mmm, thanks, but not yet,” Felicity murmurs. “I’m waiting for the day you kiss me, and I can do that whole burying-my-fingers-in-your-hair thing books are always writing about. Wouldn’t be half as much fun if it wasn’t because I was caught up in the moment.”

“ _You_ could kiss _me,_ ” Sara points out, lifting a shoulder and then dropping it.

“I could,” Felicity returns. “But I already do on the cheek, andyour expression is totally conflicted every time I do it.”

Sara sobers then. She slides her body down, low enough that she can lean her head on Felicity’s shoulder. “I am terrified that I’ll scare you away,” she says, her voice stilted.

“Why?” Felicity questions softly.

“Because the chemistry between you and Oliver—it’s explosive,” Sara mumbles. “You and I don’t have that chemistry. Not naturally. And every time I think about kissing you or—or touching you, I imagine you … not liking it, at best. It’s hard to want to kiss or touch you after that.”

She looks heart-achingly stricken by that thought.

“Oliver and I didn’t start out with the chemistry we have now, either,” Felicity divulges. “I mean, I always thought he was hot, but he wasn’t like … I-must-have-him-or-I’ll-die kinda hot. Which he is now—and if you tell him I said that, I _will_ find a way to retaliate—but that’s because he’s touched me one time too many and he’s always shirtless on the salmon ladder and his Arrow voice does funny things to me. I would never have known that if he hadn’t let me in, though. And then he would just be the abstract concept of Oliver Queen who was very hot but whom I didn’t have constant fantasies about mauling.”

Sara remains quiet, but Felicity can tell by her expression that she’s thinking about it.

“I don’t know you well enough to make you my fantasy fodder,” Felicity adds. “But if I have nothing to work off of, then it’s gonna be harder for me to make it happen.”

She hears Sara’s breath hitch, but she doesn’t let on. She simply rests her cheek against Sara’s silky hair and lets the other woman process whatever is going through her head.

“Give me time?” Sara asks suddenly.

Felicity brushes her lips across Sara’s hair and promises, “As much time as you need.”

\-------------------------

Sometime in the middle of the night, not long after they had gone to bed, she feels Sara jerk awake and tense up. She opens her eyes sleepily to check on the woman beside her, but in the distance, she hears the front door shut quietly and a lock turn.

“It’s just Oliver. He has a spare key and he drops by sometimes,” she slurs in reassurance. (Because he _does_ have a spare key, and no criminal in their right mind would have so much social etiquette as to use her front door.) Sara, of course, doesn’t let down her guard.

Felicity knows, even without looking at the doorway, the exact moment Oliver steps into the room, because Sara relaxes so much that she practically melts into the mattress.

She must think Felicity’s fallen back to sleep, though, because her voice is a whisper when she calls, “Ollie?”

Oliver hums and pulls back the sheets. “Go back to sleep, Sara.”

“Do you want me to switch places with you?” she asks.

There is a pause where Oliver is clearly weighing his options. Felicity waits with bated breath. _The answer is ‘no,’_ she wants to say, because Sara is still new to all of this and still needs to learn that she doesn’t have to be shunted aside so that others can be happy.

But then Oliver is still new to all of this, too, and even though he hasn’t said as much, Felicity knows that he’s just as fearful of losing her.

She knows them. She knows that for however strong their bond is, they both want her in their lives for the things they can’t find in each other—the hope; the light; the chance to put their dark past behind them. She’s okay with being the person they rely on for that.

But they are not her, and they can’t see the things she sees: That she can love both of them. She’d thought about that—and a myriad of other things—before she’d even proposed a three-way relationship to Sara, and she doesn’t have a single doubt that she’s capable of loving both Sara and Oliver equally and unreservedly.

She can only hope that they one day come to the same realization she has.

“Go back to sleep, Sara,” Oliver repeats, and Felicity lets out the breath she’s held. “We can switch places in the morning.”

He climbs into bed then. Felicity rolls closer to Sara, draping an arm across her partner’s waist and searching the opposite side of bed for Oliver’s hand so that they can intertwine their fingers. He catches hold of her hand and clasps her in between both palms, bringing her knuckles to his lips; in that manner, with the heat of his breath upon her skin and Sara’s pliable body in between theirs, Felicity burrows her nose into the crook of Sara’s neck and closes her eyes.

They’re not where they should be yet. Everything’s still new and rough and awkward and uncertain for them.

But Felicity also doesn’t have a single doubt that they will get there.

* * *

Crossposted to: [Tumblr](http://anonymous033.tumblr.com/post/112926480127/amalgamate-part-1-a-smoaking-canarrow)


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s just we never really talked about this. I—don’t get me wrong: I don’t mind sharing you with Sara. But I—I have to wonder if I was enough for you.”

When she wakes up the next morning, the sheets are drawn tight around her, but to her left, the bed lies bare. She throws back the covers and sits up—legs dangling over the edge of the mattress—before looking over her shoulder. For a moment, she thinks about making the bed, but … _nah._ It wouldn’t stay neat for very long with three people using it, anyway.

She stands, stretching her limbs, and leaves the room. In the hallway, she stops: She sees Oliver sitting in the middle of her living room floor, the newspaper before him and a mug of coffee balanced with one hand on his right knee. With his still posture and the early morning sunlight from the wall of windows casting him aglow, he looks almost like a god.

She is so lucky to have him.

“Hey,” Felicity chirps, tripping over to him. “You been up long?”

Oliver smiles up at her. “Morning. Almost two hours.”

“You should’ve woken me up,” she chides.

“We didn’t want to,” he admits sheepishly. “You looked so peaceful. Besides, Sara’s gone to visit Laurel and her dad and won’t be home till noon.”

“I coulda hung out with you in the meantime,” Felicity returns. She lowers herself to the floor and swings her legs into his lap, ignoring his amused huff as he has to move his mug of coffee out of the way.

“I’m not doing much, anyway; just reading the paper,” he says.

“I can see that,” she remarks dryly. “And how are the good citizens of Starling this morning?”

“Someone’s dog ended up in a tree. Firefighters rescued it.”

“Heroic. Although you have to wonder what the dog was doing up there; it’s usually cats that get stuck in trees.”

Oliver shrugs indifferently. Felicity chuckles and reaches up, cupping his jaw to turn his face towards hers.

“Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do we have to continue making up theories about the dog?” she questions.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Felicity tilts her head to one side and studies him. His face is guileless and his eyes don’t drop away from hers; he doesn’t at all seem to be lying. And yet— “Every weekend we’ve spent together, you’ve woken me up with kisses and the very imaginative threat of the sports channel at full volume in my living room because you’re bored,” she says. “Today—the morning after the very first time I invite Sara to my home—you’re sitting by yourself, reading the paper like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Coincidence? I doubt it.”

There it is—he lowers his gaze. “I figured you could use the rest.”

“After _what?_ ” she asks in exasperation. “All the kinky sex I had with Sara last night?”

Oliver freezes, looking remarkably like a deer in the headlights. “Wow, _whoa,_ ” he splutters. “I don’t want to hear about—”

“Yes, you do,” Felicity interrupts firmly, “because I am not _cheating on you with Sara;_ I am _in a relationship with you and Sara._ And that, by default, requires full disclosure. Or, well … I have long accepted that you are not gonna tell me everything that happened on Lian Yu, and if it’s something you’re more comfortable talking about with Sara, then by all means do that because you need a confidante and I can’t always be that person for you. But _this?_ I’m not gonna hide this away. Because neither of you is my dirty little secret, and I need you both to know that.”

Oliver drops his shoulders, looking defeated. “Okay.”

“I know that sounds harsh,” she adds. “But you and Sara are acting as if I’m in two separate relationships with two separate people when that’s not the case. For the record? I didn’t sleep with her last night. Sara’s not ready yet—and neither am I, to be honest. But if we _had_ slept together, then I wouldn’t want to hide that from you, because we have nothing to hide. If you didn’t want to hear about our night because you’re glad we enjoyed it and you just don’t think it’s a big deal that would impact the three of us, then fine, I don’t need to tell you; but if you didn’t want to hear about it because it would make you worry about what that means for you, then _stop,_ because there’s nothing to worry about. _We need you here,_ in this relationship. Okay?”

“It’s just we never really talked about this,” he murmurs. “I—don’t get me wrong: I don’t _mind_ sharing you with Sara. But I—I have to wonder if I was enough for you.”

“You are,” Felicity answers simply, shifting her body so that she can straddle his lap and loop her arms around his neck. A kiss to the tip of his nose, and then she says, “You are. If I had only you for the rest of my life, I would be _so_ content.”

“But Sara—?”

“Sara deserves the chance to be happy too, don’t you think?” Delicately, Felicity traces one of his cheeks with her fingertips; the curve rounds as his lips curl up at her gesture. “I get that what we’re doing here is … not the most conventional of arrangements. But it’s like making friends—you don’t go out and make another friend because your first friend wasn’t enough. You go out and make another friend because you can and you like this person too and you think you can all be friends together.”

He huffs with laughter at her analogy.

“I should’ve discussed this with you before I approached Sara,” she says. “Not doing so was my mistake. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but you are and always will be enough for me.”

Oliver leans forwards, capturing her lips with his; feeling his need and his urgency, she lets him guide their kiss—opens her mouth to his tongue and his teeth and his nearly bruising passion. When he breaks away, they’re both a little breathless.

“Wow,” she pants, and he smirks a little. “Now _that_ you gotta bring to the little threesome we’re gonna have eventually.”

“Hah,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “Warming up to the idea already?”

“Oh, I was _always_ warm to the idea,” she purrs, watching as his pupils dilate. “You guys just didn’t think to ask me.”

“I did,” he says defensively. “Sara accused me of wanting to use the threesome sex to _have you_ withouthaving you.”

“Oh?” Felicity giggles, raising her eyebrows. “And was that the case?”

“She wasn’t wrong,” he admits reluctantly. “But I think she was upset because she wanted tohave youwithout _having you._ ”

That sobers Felicity a little bit.

“You make us smile, you know?” he continues, sliding his hand up her back. “And that’s rare in our world. She hated that I ‘got to you first,’ so to speak.”

“Well, you’re both here now,” Felicity says quietly.

“Yeah,” Oliver breathes. “But we’re probably both wondering if it’ll blow over when you realize that the two of us added up … we’re a lot of trouble. Maybe more than is worth your while.”

“That’s the way you see it,” she refutes gently. “But the way _I_ see it, I had one brave, smart, maybe a little damaged but mostly just _so strong and so incredibly tenacious hero_ who wanted me, and now I have two. Back when it was just you and Sara, I thought you didn’t need me anymore because I was just this weird, awkward geek who couldn’t shut up—” Oliver opens his mouth, but Felicity holds up a hand to stop him from interrupting, “—but then you and I got together, and you got all dopey and smiley, and I figured it out. What you and Sara have: It’s comradeship. It’s the kind of unshakeable bond that comes from fighting multiple wars together, and you keep each other close for the reason that you have been through _so much_ together. What you and I have is different—I haven’t been through remotely the same crucible as you, but I make you happy.”

“You do,” he agrees. “You make us both happy.”

“But that doesn’t devalue what you have with Sara,” she points out. “Nor does it change what you have with Sara in any way. Because Sara and I are two different people, and we mean two different things to you.”

Oliver purses his lips. “So, what you’re saying is, Sara and I mean different things to you.”

“Exactly,” she confirms. “And apart from being in this same relationship with me, I don’t know what the two of you add up to because I haven’t lumped you into one discrete blob called ‘Felicity’s partner.’ You’re two very different people that I enjoy being with, both together and on your own, and I don’t have a quota on caring about either or both of you at the same time. You’ll never be too much for me, Oliver—not unless you and Sara deliberately band together to make it so.”

Oliver breaths out haggardly, pulling her close. “We just don’t wanna make it a chore for you,” he says, his voice rough.

“Then, don’t,” she tells him. “Rely on her as much as you rely on me. That’s what our relationship is all about.”

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she parrots, leaning her forehead against his and running her fingers across his jaw.

He lets out a low rumble. “Y’know, you’re good at this,” he muses, his voice light. Just like that, she knows the moment’s over. “It’s almost like you’ve done this before.”

Felicity rolls her eyes good-humouredly. “I’d never moonlighted as a vigilante’s partner before, but I think I took that all in stride,” she retorts. “My whole life has been a series of unexpected events. Having a father and then not; growing up well on my way to becoming a cocktail waitress and then not; being told by mean classmates in high school that Felicity the Freak would never amount to much … and then being told by you that I’m remarkable. My life unfolds in strange and interesting ways. I figure that as long as I roll with the punches and do my best—I’ll have no regrets.”

Oliver chuckles. “You are pretty special, Felicity Smoak,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Has anyone ever told you know that?”

“I figured it out when two broody heroes started vying for my attention,” she teases. And then she wriggles herself into a more comfortable position and nestles with her side against his chest. “Now, hand me that mug of coffee, because I’m not moving from your lap until I’m done with it.”

\-------------------------

“‘Selfie’ is not a word.”

“It is too. Check the dictionary.”

Oliver frowns at her, leaning across the board game to pull the hair she had been chewing on out of her mouth. “‘Selfie,’ really?” he asks sceptically. “That’s what they added to the dictionary while I was gone?”

Felicity shrugs. “Actually, I think they added it after you’d come back. But I’d understand if you missed that bit of information, what with you being busy saving the city and all.”

“Aren’t selfies that thing where you take a picture of yourself?” he asks, looking bemused.

“Yes,” she replies, “something that is _very_ easy to do with a camera phone. Which—by the way—existed before you left.”

“I knew that.” He scowls darkly at her. “I’m just surprised that—you know what? I don’t believe you. I _am_ going to check the dictionary, as a matter of fact.”

Felicity snorts. “Suit yourself.” She slides her letter tiles back and forth across their holder, kicking her calves through the air while she waits. She’s lying on her stomach on the floor; the _Scrabble_ board is set out before her, swivelled to face Oliver, who sits cross-legged opposite her and is perusing his phone with a look of intense concentration on his face.

When he puts away his phone and stares at her grumpily, she can’t help but to grin in triumph. She’s about to comment on Grumpy Face when the front door opens and Sara comes through with a rustling plastic bag. Felicity perks up. “You got food?”

“I did,” Sara confirms, closing the door and locking it before moving over to them. “Sandwiches from a deli on the way home from Laurel’s. And that is a _very rude Scrabble_ board.”

“I like to scandalize Oliver,” Felicity reports. “Or rather, I like to pretend to scandalize Oliver, because he’s under the impression that someone as cute and happy as me cannot _possibly_ have a mind that dirty.”

Sara opens her mouth, looking as bemused as Oliver had been about the selfies, but then closes it with a shake of her head.

“Genius-level IQ here,” Felicity warns. “Whatever word you’re thinking about using to describe me, ‘naïve’ had better not be one of them.”

Sara flushes crimson. Oliver hides his smile behind his hand.

“C’mon, sit.” Felicity tugs on Sara’s hand, pulling away the bag of sandwiches as the other blonde settles onto the floor. “You can take my turns while I plate up the sandwiches. And _don’t_ let Oliver convince you that ‘selfie’ is not a word. He’s lying.”

Sara looks no less confused, but Felicity doesn’t let that deter her. As she stands and heads into the kitchen, she hears Sara ask Oliver, “‘Selfie’ is a word?”

When she returns, however, she is deeply disappointed. “Sara,” she sighs as she hands both of her partners their plates. “‘Cat.’ _Cat._ Really? We need to work on your imagination.”

“I’m sorry if my imagination isn’t as colourful as yours,” Sara replies cheekily against the backdrop of Oliver’s laughter. “But I spent six years away from board games. I think I probably deserve a little leeway here.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Felicity scoffs. “But fine. Lemme grab my own plate, and then you can team up with me.”

“What?” Oliver protests. “Why do I have to go against the genius and … the girl who comes up with ‘cat’?”

“Scared, Ollie?” Sara teases, but Felicity ponders his words.

“No, you’re right,” she decides. “I have an unfair advantage. Sara, you and ‘Ollie’ can pair up.”

Sara and Oliver exchange glances.

“You’re on,” Oliver announces, taking Sara’s sandwich plate as Sara shuffles herself across the floor. “Prepare to get your ass kicked.”

“Okay, firstly—that sounds like a line from a bad movie. Secondly … big words.” Felicity smirks, squatting down to help them clear the board. “I’ll have you know that I have never lost a _Scrabble_ game yet. And as a measure of good faith,” she adds, “I’ll let you start first. Let the games begin.”

* * *

Crossposted to: [Tumblr](http://anonymous033.tumblr.com/post/113204941072/amalgamate-part-2-a-smoaking-canarrow)


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s fine. I can’t force you. Just let me know when both of you are ready to take this seriously.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place two weeks after Parts 1 and 2, and therefore presents a slight continuity jump; this jump may be later filled in with one-shots.

The weather has been questionable lately, but it’s bright when Felicity awakens that morning. Oliver is still sound asleep next to her, yet she hears the clanging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen, and she guesses that it’s Sara. It’s been a month since the three of them became an entity—though Sara is still hesitant to voice her opinions in a lot of ways, she has also become more assertive; making breakfast in Felicity’s kitchen, Felicity knows, is Sara’s way of establishing herself as feeling comfortable in Felicity’s home.

Felicity gives Oliver a nudge in the shoulder before rolling over to the side of the bed to pull herself into a sitting position. “Get up,” she demands when Oliver groans lazily. “I think Sara made breakfast.”

“You could go to her,” Oliver husks, draping an arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight.

“Nope,” Felicity replies with a popping of her ‘p.’ “It’s the first time she’s made breakfast here—as in my house, I mean. _We_ are gonna eat it.”

“You don’t even know it’s breakfast. Maybe she’s started a percussion band.”

“Really?” Felicity asks, amused. “You can’t smell the bacon?”

Oliver reveals one eye with a lift of his elbow. “There’s bacon?”

“My best guess is ‘yes,’” Felicity answers wryly. “You would know that if you paid attention.”

“Fine,” Oliver grumbles, but he’s already sitting up. “Fine, fine.”

\-------------------------

“So, I was thinking of going for a walk in the park today,” Sara says as she places a mug of coffee by Felicity’s full plate. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah, sure,” Felicity chirps enthusiastically, shoving a mouthful of pancake into her mouth. It might just be Sara’s cooking, but Felicity thinks the fact that it’s a Saturday morning has probably enhanced the taste of her food. She savours the sweetness before swallowing and adding, “We could go—all three of us. We could even bring a picnic for lunch. The sky looks like it’s cooperating today.”

But there’s a pause as Sara and Oliver exchange glances, and Felicity doesn’t miss it.

She puts her fork down with a clink and asks flatly, “Okay, what?”

The other blonde woman turns to her. “All—all three of us?” Sara asks hesitantly. “Like on a date?”

“I guess so…” Felicity replies warily. “Why?”

“We’ve never been on a date before,” Oliver chips in, his voice deliberately casual.

“Exactly,” Felicity points out. “And a picnic is the perfect lunch-date-that’s-pre-dinner-date. I’ve only been on coffee dates with _either_ of you so far. It would be nice to have all of us together on a date.”

“That’s true…” Oliver concedes slowly.

“What’s going on?” Felicity frowns. “Do you guys _not_ want to go on a date?”

“We’re just not sure if that’s a good idea yet,” Sara answers gently.

If there’s one thing Felicity hates, it’s being patronized. She’s well-versed in how it goes—‘Felicity, your dad loves you; he just needed to go away for a while.’ ‘Smoak, you’re a good student, but I’m not sure this plan is gonna work.’ ‘I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but I don’t know whether it’s a good idea for you to be Queen’s assistant,’—and she _really doesn’t want_ to hear it anymore. She knows her girlfriend doesn’t mean anything harmful by it, but it riles her up all the same that Sara is beating around the bush, sugar-coating her words because she’s afraid Felicity can’t handle the truth.

Swallowing back the annoyance simmering in her, Felicity pushes her plate away and stands. “That’s cool,” she says. “It’s fine. I can’t force you. Just let me know when both of you are ready to take this seriously.”

So, her voice might shake a little at the end—but her head is still held high as she makes her way back into her room.

\-------------------------

Oliver raps his knuckles against the doorway five minutes later, shoulder leaning against the wooden doorframe and legs crossed where he stands and takes her in.

“She thinks it’s her fault, y’know,” he says.

Felicity barely glances up from the bench at the foot of her bed where she sits. “Oh, well, take her side then.”

And because she’s studiously focusing on the tablet in her lap, she jumps when Oliver appears on his haunches before her so quickly it’s almost as if he teleported there. “Hey,” he says, a little sad, a little softly. “You know it’s not like that, right?”

“I know,” Felicity answers, and her heart thumps guiltily because she _does_ know—they would sooner be the one to walk out themselves than be the ones to give her up. “But I’m tired of it having to be somebody’s fault.”

Oliver furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

“Oliver, we’re in a threesome,” she reminds him, “there’s no other way to mince words. Eventually, you and Sara are gonna have to realize that that entails more than hanging out with me on a one-to-one-basis.”

Oliver shakes his head. “I’m just not sure if we want to be publicly outed yet. Sara’s … made a lot of enemies in her career. And I still end up in the tabloids from time to time—”

“And that’s fine,” Felicity says quickly. “But it’s just a picnic. Unless you start feeding us both strawberries, _no one_ is going to question if it isn’t just a picnic among friends. Besides, that’s not the main point. The main point is that … this past month, it’s just been me going from one reassurance to the next—telling you that yes, I do still want you; telling Sara that no, it’s not tearing you and me apart to include her. I want, just for once, for the answer _not_ to be ‘I don’t think this is a good idea.’”

“We’re getting better, don’t you think?” Oliver asks with a weak smile.

“Maybe,” Felicity agrees. “But we’re supposed to be happy in this, and that can’t happen unless you two _step up_ because I can’t steer this ship alone forever.”

Oliver lowers his head quietly. Felicity puts aside her tablet and curls her fingers around the shell of his ear, thumb brushing across his cheekbone.

“Knock, knock,” an unsteady voice says. Felicity looks up to see Sara—arms wrapped around herself in her classic defensive posture—in the doorway. Felicity smiles in invitation; Sara walks in, footsteps hesitant, and sinks to the floor at Felicity’s other knee.

“We’re sorry,” Sara says, her breath catching in an audible sniff when Felicity snakes a hand around her head to rest against the curve of her neck. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Felicity answers tiredly. “I want you guys to be … I don’t know, happy. Brave. Willing to consider the idea of doing more than playing _Scrabble_ when all three of us are in the same room at the same time. Realizing that it’s okay, and no one has to get jealous or insecure or uncertain if they should be there, because all three of us are in this together and it only works if we think of ourselves as a three, not a two plus one.”

Sara curves a hand around Felicity’s calf.

“I mean, I don’t know,” Felicity continues resignedly. “Sometimes I feel you guys got into this for me—because it’s what I want—rather than because you wanted it.”

“Would that be so bad?” Oliver asks, and Felicity sighs.

“I can’t pretend to question your motives,” she admits, “when this whole arrangement was complicated to begin with. But I think you have to really want it to make it work.”

“I do,” Oliver answers, his voice almost fierce. “I love you both _deeply._ I’m just … still trying to figure out how to do this.”

And there’s a rush of blood through Felicity’s ears, because that’s the first time he’s told her he loved her. (She already knew— _oh,_ she couldn’t not know when he looks at her with as much adoration as he does—but hearing it is a whole different story.)

“I think I’m still wrapping my head around the idea of being anybody but Nyssa’s first choice,” Sara pipes up softly. “Nyssa and I, we really did love each other, but it was easy to stay completely wrapped up in one another when we didn’t have anyone else to rely on in the first place. But Oliver has you, and you have Oliver. I know you both told me you want me, but … what do I even bring to this relationship that isn’t totally dispensable?”

“Yourself,” Felicity replies. Sara gives her a startled look, so she continues, “Despite your best efforts to advise me to the contrary, I still think you’re worth being in a relationship with for nothing but you. It's only that I can’t make you stop feeling like an outsider, Sara. That’s just something you’re gonna have to learn on your own.”

“Hey,” Oliver says, nudging Sara’s arm. “You’re not that teenager with the embarrassing crush at the party anymore.”

Whatever _that_ means.

But it makes Sara laugh tearfully and entangle her fingers with Oliver’s, and Felicity is grateful for whatever reassurance he has given the other woman.

“I think we should go on that picnic today,” Sara says eventually. “It would be good to get some sun. We don’t get Saturday mornings off very often, and—and I just wanna chill with my two favourite people in the world.”

The quick turnabout honestly surprises Felicity, but she recognizes Sara’s attempt to make an effort for what it is, and so she simply twirls a lock of Sara’s hair around her fingertip and asks, “So, is salad as a picnic food something you guys are fanatical about, or should I veto that _right away?_ ”

Sara and Oliver both, for some reason, find her words hysterically funny.

The air is clearer, lighter when they stop laughing. Her two partners get to their feet, each grazing a kiss across either of her cheeks as they haul her up, and Oliver presses a hand to the small of Felicity’s back as she trails Sara out of the room.

So, maybe they’re _only_ just getting started on the relationship for real.

Felicity’s okay with that, as long as the progress continues.

* * *

Crossposted to: [Tumblr](http://anonymous033.tumblr.com/post/118027257457/amalgamate-part-3-a-smoaking-canarrow)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honesty time:
> 
> If you found Amalgamate to be rather dull, you're probably right in feeling so. (Though hopefully you didn't!) When I first thought about writing Smoaking Canarrow, I felt given a polyamorous relationship is still considered to be non-normative in today's society and given Sara and Oliver are characters with haunted pasts that their being uncertain about it would be both logical and acceptable; however, I didn't want to leave the reader with 30 chapters of Will They, Won't They dread.
> 
> This three-parter, therefore, is written less so for a creative plot and more so as a foundation for my interpretation of this ship. I realize that a month in is really not much of a structure at all, but it is as far as I can reasonably script without closing off future avenues of writing for myself; fics that I explore in the future may take place within or without this timeline, but will be in the same 'verse, which hopefully serves to assuage the reader that they are, indeed, fics meant to take place within the context of an equal and solid relationship.
> 
> (They'll also be more interesting plot-wise. Possibly?)
> 
> If you've made it this far, thank you for reading and for bearing with me! I hope you've enjoyed both Port and Amalgamate.


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